Caught on Camera

Chapter 8, Scene 1, Part 15

Chapter 8

Splash

Scene 1

Barefoot, with the designer shoes tucked under one arm, Rachel inserted the master key card dangling from her wrist into the Bridal Suite lock and pushed open the door. A sleepy Mopette trotted over from her cushy makeshift bed -- the satin cushion she'd dragged off the vanity stool onto the salon carpet. Rachel automatically stooped to pick up the cushion and fluff it before replacing it on the stool. The dog yipped a greeting and sniffed Rachel's raw swollen toes.

Bedside lamps glowed in the adjacent bedroom. Mopette trailed Rachel as she padded on throbbing balls of her feet through to the bathroom to ensure it had been freshened satisfactorily for the guests' return. She switched on the bathroom light. Porcelain fixtures gleamed. Clean towels, robes and bathmat, check. A dry shower curtain, soap and toiletries replaced with unused items, check. On her return trip, she verified that the night attendant had placed a truffle in foil on each night table and turned down the king comforter at a precise angle. The guests expected five star service and they got it.

To her dismay, Mickey had insisted he'd wait on the dining room terrace for her and the dog, in line with the unwelcome promise earlier that he planned to "take them under his wing", code for "watch her every move". Guilt nipped at her blistered heels. Or was that Mopette's rough pink tongue? She picked up the dog and rubbed her nose in warm, soft fur. Mopette arched to lick Rachel's ear.

At this point in an exhausting day she didn't have energy left to fend off suspicious, probing questions. But the show must go on. Resigned to the inevitable, she planned to give the dog the shortest walk in history and then escape to her room to download the photos.

After lowering Mopette onto the cushioned stool, Rachel quickly stripped off Candy's dress and hung it safely in the closet. The designer shoes she wiped down with a damp tissue and returned to the closet as well. Then, stark naked except for the camera pendant, skin goosebumped by chilly air-conditioning, she padded across thick carpet to the upholstered chair where she'd left the halter top, skirt and underpants.

No clothes.

Her black flip-flops remained tucked neatly under the chair. Rachel cast about wildly. Every surface had already been tidied by the evening room attendant. The blurry shape and color of a laundry ticket on the console by the door swam into view. Oh my gods!

"Mopette," she squealed. "Please don't tell me the maid took my clothes to the laundry for overnight service. Tell me you've been a naughty dog and dragged my clothes somewhere."

Rachel limped into the closet, around the bed, even onto the balcony. To Mopette, Rachel's frantic search was a game of chase. She barked enthusiastically at Rachel's heels. Thankfully, the Bridal Suite's isolated location at the end of the corridor on the inn's top floor prevented noise from disturbing other guests.

Tick tock. Candy'd return any minute. She wrung her hands, frantically considered the limited options. A bath towel wrapped sarong style would require her to detour to her own room to change. And besides, her own scruffy clothes would surely tip Mickey to her fake bridesmaid's gig. Candy's silver designer dress beckoned from the closet, but Rachel shuddered at the memory of Candy's flash of anger when she recognized the dress earlier at dinner. No more borrowing, then. 

Two white cotton robes hung behind the bathroom door, sleeves tucked into pockets embroidered with the Sterling Inn logo, one size small, the other extra large. In a hotel robe and flip-flops she'd easily pass for a guest.

Since Candy might wish to shower and don a robe before bed, Rachel slid the oversized robe meant for Halden off its hanger, thrust arms into sleeves longer than the tips of her fingers, then scampered into the salon to retrieve her flip-flops and Mopette's leash.

Clutching Mopette tight to her madly thumping heart, Rachel heard the elevator door ding as they exited the self-locking suite. An unintelligible comment in Candy's trilling voice and Raynald's fawning reply drifted down the hall. Yikes. Rachel pinched Mopette's nose and jaw together to stifle her greeting to her mistress, slammed open the heavy fire door to the stairwell and plunged down the stairs.